Ozma
by Child of Loki
Summary: In the OZ, a dream is never just a dream. Eventual DG/Cain. Chapter Seven: A little sorcery is in order...
1. Corsalmon Nightmare

**Disclaimer: I don't own Tin Man or its characters... I think some others that may appear later on belong to L Frank Baum…**

**Author's Note: There is a plot that I had in mind when starting this. We'll see if I can get to it. As is, this is a sort of silly chapter, just to show where DG is at before the craziness of plot (hopefully) takes over. Actually, it may take a couple chapters before I get to what actually inspired me to write this. Hopefully there is something new/different to it, otherwise it's quite unnecessary when there are so many other well-written post-eclipse, DG/Cain stories out there.

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Things had finally seemed to return to normal.

Of course, it didn't really feel that way for DG, princess-in-training. But considering she was born in the Outer Zone and raised on the Other Side, she'd probably never possess any sense of normality. In Kansas, she had felt out of place. Here, she truly felt as if she belonged, but everything was unfamiliar and just different enough from all she had ever known to be strange.

Like wearing dresses every day...

DG frowned at her reflection in the mirror as she held the day's dress up in front of her. For some obnoxious reason, the entire court was expected to coordinate stylistically. Servants always laid out what she was supposed to wear, so that she awoke to some new annoying conformity every morning.

The cause was _tradition_ no doubt. She had learned that there was an awful lot of _tradition_ in the OZ and reviving it was a way for the people to attach themselves to a more ideal past, and in so doing further the recovery from the witch's rule.

But still...that was no reason for DG to sashay around in frilly dresses. Okay, that was unfair. They were generally quite elegant and stylish, but they just weren't her. And she hadn't yet managed to convince the royal dressmaker of this fact.

She stuck out her tongue at the dress and her reflection. Its lines weren't bad, but apparently, the color of the day was a cross between coral and salmon. Didn't they know the two species were incompatible? It at least should be obvious that they spawned a hideous offspring.

Letting it drop to the floor, she took pleasure in the idea that it would get all rumpled. Her mother would officially admonish her, but that secret smile would twinkle in her eye, the one that showed pride in her daughter's spark.

Thankfully, she had gone back to the other side to pack up a few things, bringing some of her old clothes with her to the OZ. The head of household, responsible for all the pomp of the court was always trying to get the servants to surreptitiously steal away her old things, they were so jarring to his sensibilities of what 'royalty' should look like.

DG danced around the room in her camisole and panties just to spite the purveyors of propriety. It was beyond impossible for her to sleep in the excessively ornate nightgowns that got all twisted up around her, threatening to strangle her in her sleep. Thankfully, it was inappropriate to see the princess in an 'undressed' state (if only they knew how 'undressed'...), so she was able to get away with sleeping in her underwear.

Feeling especially bold and rebellious, she threw back the drapes covering the enormous windows in her room. Raising her hands above her head and wiggling her hips, she did her best version of a belly dance.

_Hey, Outer Zone! Here's DG! And she's in her skinnies, oh no! _

_The princess is so shockingly misbehaved... _

_She's such an embarrassment..._

_She-_shit!

Her heart leapt into her throat and her breathing turned panicked as she threw her back against the drapes to hide. So much for thinking the coast was clear. She had never seen anyone on that side of the palace at this hour, so she assumed taunting the world wouldn't actually be as brazen an act as she had pretended.

Timidly peeking around the great, emerald brocade curtains, she attempted to ascertain whether those she had spotted had seen her. Because _oh_, she had recognized them. There was no mistaking that hat, that stance. And there weren't many that could be confused with the caveman-worthy dress code of the Viewer. There was a third along with her two close friends. His presence was not as distinctive as that of Raw or Cain, but she knew it was her tin man's son nonetheless.

Standing in the same spot, in the middle of the eastern courtyard, they continued to talk amongst themselves. None were looking in the direction of her room, several stories above their heads, so she let herself hope that they hadn't seen her. Sighing she sunk to the floor and crawled on her hands knees to where the hideous-colored dress lay in a haphazard pile on the floor.

Afraid to stand-up, even though she was deep in the recesses of her room and more than likely hidden from those outside the palace, DG instead fought to get herself into the dress while lying on the floor. After several minutes of intense struggling, she stood up and straightened herself out in the mirror. And she did so all without having any more nasty thoughts or disparaging comments against the garment, a punishment for her careless, near-incident.

She took a deep breath before she stepped out into the anterior room of her suite, where her ladies-in-waiting were just, well, _waiting_ to jump on her like ravenous papay. No, that was unfair. They were just doing their job...which was to make sure she was presentable to the outside world, that she inspired at least a smidgen of confidence in the royal family. Couldn't have their princesses looking like vagabonds, she supposed. Well, Az could never look less than immaculate, but as for herself...

Really, what would be wrong with royalty that looked like they were willing to get their hands dirty?

At least they kept the makeup to a minimum. There was nothing worse than feeling lost under a mask of pastes, powders, gels, and waxy amalgamations. Then again, with that sort of mask, she could hide from the more intense members of court, the ones that didn't quite know what to make of her and supplemented that fact by discussing every topic in the OZ, current and hackneyed, in every single conversation.

_Ugh, what is this day gonna hold?_

Supposedly, all that was scheduled were more lessons. Only one would be with Az, for her sister had caught up much faster, especially with court etiquette and the intricacies of Outer Zone politics. The older princess didn't need to learn the entire history of the OZ. She had lived a dark portion of it... poor Az.

Preoccupied by her own struggles to find her place, DG sometimes forgot about the suffering of her sister. Guilt often snuck up on her, even knowing that Azkadellia didn't blame her for leaving her to the witch in the first place. Everyone was aware that the witch had possessed the princess, that the evil was no more. However, that didn't place the people who had faced such oppression under the Sorceress Azkadellia at ease around the Princess Az.

Speaking of...

"DG," the older princess burst in as wildly as she was capable, which was not wild at all. _Such manners, my sister retains_! "We're going to be late for our lesson with Tutor."

Az' own magical abilities had been suppressed by the witch's, leaving her in basically the same position as her sister, having to reacquaint themselves with their latent gifts. Tutor had taken up the task practically where he had left off all those years ago.

"I'm ready," DG announced, shooing the doting (to the point of suffocating) servants away from her hair. She preferred it dressed down and without all the unnecessary adornments. Truthfully, she would prefer to do it entirely herself. When she saw her sister, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

Az made any color work, any style. She was gorgeous, even more so without all the primping, elaborate style, and overdone makeup the sorceress had adorned. Also, they looked much more like sisters when Az dressed down...well, as down as someone as elegant as her could appear.

"What?" Az asked, looking self-conscious.

"Sorry," DG apologized for her staring. "You're just so pretty, Az. I think the dressmaker has it out for me. I always look so terrible in these dresses."

"You look fine, DG," Az soothed. "Stop being so self-deprecating."

With a smile on her exquisitely shaped lips, she held out a hand, which DG gladly accepted. It was all she could do not to skip along beside her sister. Psychologists would no doubt have some elaborate explanation for it, but they had seemed to revert to being children again when they were with one another. Perhaps, it was because they had no idea where to begin, so instead picked up their relationship where it had been before their separation.

And admittedly, DG enjoyed the light-hearted fun they conjured with each other. It made the gravity of everything going on around them a little more bearable. Besides, outside of their sisterly play, she rarely saw Az smile except for with their parents. Even with DG's closest friends, people she was certain didn't hold the least grudge or resentment against Azkadellia for the witch's behavior, interactions with Az were strained.

As they walked the large, echoing halls of the palace, DG studied her sister. Something was most definitely bothering her. She could see sadness, worry in her eyes and in the detached sort of way she navigated the corridors, like she were on autopilot. It hurt DG to see her sister suffer, and not only because all her suffering could easily be linked back to DG's irresponsibility. But if Az wanted to talk about it, she would.

Maybe she just needed something else to think about, something that would make her smile, or better yet, laugh.

"You'll never guess what I did this morning," DG began, the tone in her voice suggesting it was something embarrassing. Az looked at her sister, raising an eyebrow, knowing the trouble she oft got herself into for the dumbest of reasons.

"Well, you know how much I hate these _damn_ dresses..."

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**A/N: Oh, DG is still managing to get herself in trouble…**


	2. Escapism

**Author's Note: Okay, plot still isn't quite here yet, but definitely starts in the next chapter. I still felt this was necessary to setup where the characters are at... (Or I'm just playing, but I guess that's what this is anyhow, just me playing)  


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Running for the large, intricately carved wardrobe, DG pulled the offensive pinkish dress over her head, tripping slightly as she refused to slow down. She tossed it to the side, completely forgetting her earlier concern that someone could look in with the drapes thrown wide open and see her in her compromised state, and this time in nothing but her panties.

Not of it mattered, not so much as getting to the wardrobe and digging out some decent, worn out clothes to throw on.

Because she was going to spend the afternoon with Wyatt Cain.

She had bumped into him when she was leaving (okay, running from) her lesson with Toto and Az, heading towards what she was dreading to be another boring lecture by Gl-Ambrose about the history of the OZ. Quite literally, she had /bumped/ into Cain, colliding with the tin man as he was exiting a meeting with the head of palace security.

Given his perpetual vigilance, it seemed odd that she'd catch him off guard enough to knock him off kilter (although not at all odd for her daydreaming self). But it had been during his one possible vulnerable moment, when he was putting his hat back on his head, and he was obviously preoccupied with processing what had transpired in whatever meeting he had just finished.

"Unh-whoa, kiddo," he had exclaimed, grabbing her arms to prevent her from falling to the floor. She had found herself leaning heavily against him, so close she could feel his warmth, smell the unadulterated scent of him. The blush from embarrassment over her flighty accident deepened for a different reason.

Maybe he had seen it in her eyes, for he hastily steadied and released her, taking a step back.

"Uh, sorry, Cain," she had apologized awkwardly. "Those lessons in etiquette and poise are obviously not taking."

This had gotten a chuckle from the generally stoic tin man. He wasn't so rough and tough as his exterior purported to be and DG knew it.

"Off to another one?" he had asked, perhaps eyeing her dress a little too carefully.

She had pulled a face. "Gli-Amrbose's Complete History of the OZ."

"But then I'm free for the afternoon," she had added, cheered by the thought of a few hours without lessons, without meetings, without thinking of recovery projects, social programs, or power struggles of the old elite families battling to reassert themselves.

"Any elaborate schemes for escape?" he had asked, picking up on her immense relief, and facetiously pointing out her alacrity for causing trouble.

"Is that an offer for those riding lessons you said you'd give me, tin man?" she had shot back, not entirely seriously, but not completely joking either. Once, it seemed like forever ago, she had made him promise to teach her to ride horses, something she'd always wanted to learn.

"Sure, why not," he had conceded with a smirk.

Obviously, she hadn't thought ahead. It was near impossible to sit still through Ambrose's lecture. She hadn't been able to answer any of his questions the first time around, and barely managed to concentrate enough to answer them on the second or third try. For sure, she hadn't behaved so badly since a child stuck in school anticipating recess. Her life had become a little stifling as of late and she just couldn't help feeling excited at the prospect of a little freedom, of leaving the palace grounds, of a few hours without responsibility to spend with a friend, the best kind of friend, one that made no demands upon her, that didn't expect her to be anything but herself.

She pulled on an old pair of jeans...her favorite pair, probably worn beyond the point where they should've been tossed, but that was part of _why_ they were the favorite pair. With a t-shirt, her old shoes and a jacket, she bounded for the door, feeling like her self again.

_Forget all this Princess stuff_!

An afternoon just to be DG was all she wanted and everything she needed.

...

_Dammit! Busted!_

DG turned around to face the person who had called her name. And she had almost made a clean break, too!

"Yes, mother?" she tried to remember the polite and proper way to speak as royalty. No matter the instant bond she had felt towards the woman, the memories she had recovered, it still felt strange to call her 'mom.' She had settled for 'mother' which sometimes felt cold, but in this case, sounding respectful would get her a lot farther than 'yeah, ma! What dya want?!'

"Where are you off to?" the much more elegant woman asked, her voice as smooth as silk. Despite the even authority in her tone, there was still that omnipresent twinkle in the Queen's lavender eyes, the one that suggested she had been prone to getting herself in as much trouble as DG when she was her age.

"Uh..." DG stalled, considering her options. Lying wasn't going to get her anywhere, but she had this strange feeling that her mother didn't especially approve of Wyatt Cain. It was probably nothing. She had genuinely thanked the tin man for his service in saving her daughters and stopping the witch, had offered him any position he desired in the OZ's military and protective services. When he had requested to serve in the palace's security detail, there had been that little hesitation in her mother's ever-charming nature. It was probably for the best then, that she did not know it was DG who had asked him to stay, even if it was just because at that time, she only felt safe around her friends in the strange new place.

Her mother tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. No doubt that's where Az got that expressive ability.

"I didn't have any lessons scheduled for the afternoon, and..." DG began to make her argument, then stopped when she realized it sounded too much like excuses and evasion of the question. "Cain promised to teach me to ride a horse, and since I have the afternoon free, I thought it would be a good time."

_Please, please don't tell me riding horses isn't proper for princesses_!

"Where will you be going on this excursion?" her mother asked, a concerned look in her eye despite the sweet smile on her lips.

"I don't know," DG confessed. "But don't worry, mother, I'll be safe with Cain."

"All right, then, DG," she relented with a warmer smile. "I'll see you at dinner."

Feeling a little uncomfortable about it, but knowing she'd feel more awkward if she didn't do as expected, DG went up to her mother and kissed her cheek. She received the warmest smile of all for the gesture before she did all she could not to run out of the palace.

...

"Cain!" she exclaimed, tackling her friend with a hug. He wasn't really the touchy-feely type, but maybe that's why she liked to catch him off-guard all the more. Of course, she never did manage to knock him over completely, no matter how she tried to loosen him up.

He grunted when she hit him with all her weight, and then proceeded to give her a warning, displeased look. But the smile that he tried to hide after she released him belied his genuine affection for her.

"You in a hurry to run away from the palace, princess?" he asked teasingly, knowing how all the rules, protocol and structure had started to drive the fiery young woman mad.

"Maybe," she replied noncommittally. "And _please_ don't call me princess. I'm just DG."

"Hear tell you're both, kid," he pointed out, walking over to the horses and loosing the mare he had chosen for DG to ride. "And you had better find a way to live with that."

He tried not to laugh as DG rolled her eyes at his lecture. It would've been too short to be considered a lecture had it been given by anyone else, but coming from the terse tin man, that's exactly what it was.

Happily for DG, that was the last they spoke of her woes or her responsibilities for the entire afternoon. Instead, when she could get him to talk, they discussed everything from why he was so attached to that damn hat (he had won it in a bar fight, something he seemed both proud and ashamed to confess) to what she missed about the other side (county fairs, cotton candy, movies, and surprisingly, the flat rolling fields of the prairies).

She was late for dinner, her own fault for not telling Cain that she had to be back to the palace by sundown (she felt too much like testing to see if she'd turn into a pumpkin). And she hoped to god that her mother wouldn't hold it against him, especially when she received that disapproving look when she rushed to her seat, still in her riding clothes. However, it didn't stop her from talking about how much fun she had riding Ruby, that was the mare's name and she was so sweet-tempered but liked to go fast, too, and that Cain thought she was a natural for it even though DG had always felt clumsy at practically everything physical she had ever attempted for the first time.

Az seemed to take to her sister's good mood and excitement over the new experience, her face lighting up to match DG's while she asked her questions and encouraged her newfound interest. Even though Az was apparently the only other one to find such a simple experience so riveting, DG didn't notice. Or maybe she just didn't care to...She wasn't going to let anything ruin her mood.

If she were lucky, she'd be able to carry it over to the next day, which promised to be a challenge with her extremely busy schedule.

No rest for the wicked witch slayer...

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**A/N: I didn't intend for the Queen to be so cold/mean, but I don't think DG's relationship with her mother would be picture perfect.**


	3. Disconcerting Dream

**Author's note: Might not seem all that exciting, but this chapter has the first bit of the plot that's been bugging me to be written… (As always, could no doubt use another edit.)**

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The great halls of the palace were silent, eerily silent. Even during the latest hour, they were never truly empty. As long as there were people in the grandiose place, you could feel their presence, that the palace was alive. But not this time.

It was cold and empty. And it frightened DG.

And then she heard it, a soft, wailing lament. At first, she couldn't make sense of it even knowing the lamentation consisted of words.

She wandered along the halls, trying to find its source, but failed. Instead, she kept going in circles, or were all the halls simply exactly the same? All the while, the immense feeling of loneliness became more and more crushing.

And then she caught a glimpse of something, an ethereal fluttering of light. But it had looked like a girl, so far away from DG that she could not make out any of the details.

However, she hadn't the time to discern more, for the fright of its sudden and unexpected presence woke her from her strange dream with a start.

The feeling of immense loneliness from the dream persisted as DG sat up in her large bed, in her large chamber, in her large suite, in the large palace. It was oppressively sad and she found herself wrapping her arms about her knees and hugging them to her chest.

When she could no longer stand the isolation and longing that weren't really hers, DG got out of bed and slipped on a dressing gown, heading for the door. Stepping lightly, she padded quietly on bare feet into the even larger and emptier corridor. There was always a guard in the hall, stationed between the two princesses' rooms. Most of the time, they tended to doze off, and DG wasn't especially in the mood to wake one and answer dozens of questions about what she was doing, where she was going, and on and on...

_Uh-oh..._

She had forgotten who was on duty that night, but she instantly recognized the figure leaning against the wall with his hat down over his eyes and his arms crossed across his chest. For some reason, he got away with not wearing the uniform the rest of the royal guard adorned. Perhaps, it was because no one wanted to argue with the man. And at the moment, DG didn't even want to explain herself to him. It was too likely she'd burst into tears, the intense emotions of the dream still lingering.

Maybe she could sneak by him-

"Are you alright, princess?" His low voice made her jump, for he hadn't moved an inch as she slowly attempted to pass by him.

"Jeez, Cain!" she hissed. "You trying to give me a heart attack?!"

He stood up, lifting his head to look at her. She was obviously preoccupied by something deeply troubling to her mind. Then why couldn't he keep his thoughts from her bare legs, so slender and smooth in the moonlight filtering into the dark corridor? Why did his eyes keep wandering to the curve of her hips and waist? Did she know that he had caught her in the same state while she played when she had thought no one looking that morning? Even if she did, she could not know his thoughts' proclivity for considering her feminine attributes.

Made uneasy by his silence, DG fidgeted and in doing so realized how naked she was. She wrapped the dressing gown tightly about her, which seemed to snap him out of his reverie.

"What's wrong, DG?" he asked, concern edging his quiet voice.

"Nothing." She forced a smile, too embarrassed to tell him how such a simple dream had distressed her to such a degree that she was trying to seek the comfort of her sister. "I just wanted to check on Az."

"She still having nightmares?" DG had told him of the lasting effects of the witch's possession on her sister.

"I don't think so," DG confessed, glad that he had took to her excuse. "But I still wanted to check on her."

He nodded his head and she took the opportunity to escape her friend's scrutiny.

...

Az's room was as quiet and still as her own had been, compelling DG to walk slowly across the hard echoing tile floor. So badly, she had wanted to wake her sister, to hear comforting words from her, but she now realized that it was a selfish notion. Azkadellia so rarely found a peaceful night's rest, that DG did not have it in her to disturb the serenely slumbering woman.

But still...DG did not want to return to her large, lonely room, for she knew that she would not be able to sleep.

Gently, she lifted some of the emerald silken blankets and slid into the vast bed, cuddling up next to her sleeping sister, like she had done so many nights after the eclipse, when Az was in such a terrible emotional state. The loneliness seemed to lesson at her proximity to another living person, one that she cared about and whom cared about her, but the dream still lingered, preventing her from finding sleep right away.

Azkadellia was the perfect fairytale princess, the best rendition of sleeping beauty she had ever seen. Studying the pretty features of her sister's face bestowed a sort of serenity upon DG. While she didn't appear especially joyful, her sister did look content, and it pleased DG to think that Az' mind had settled, maybe even begun to recover from the turmoil of having an overwhelming, evil presence oppressing her personality for so many years.

Eventually, DG fell into a comfortable, undisturbed slumber.

...

"Deeg?"

"Mmm..." she moaned sleepily, feeling a gentle touch on her cheek. Blinking, she slowly opened her eyes to the early morning light pouring into her sister's bedroom in golden rays. Az never drew the drapes at night. She claimed that it was because she loved to see the sunrise, and that was no doubt part of it, but DG thought it was more that she didn't like the pitch black of a closed off room.

"What're you doing here, little sis?" Az asked, a warm but curious smile on her lips. "You weren't just checking up on me, were you?"

"Uh. No," DG confessed sleepily, stretching and turning to face her sister better. "I had a strange dream."

"It must've been more than strange," Az prompted.

"Nah," DG evaded the topic, feeling embarrassed even to tell her sister that something so not terrifying had shaken her up to such a degree. "It was just a silly dream."

"Be careful, DG," Az warned, looking concerned. "In the OZ, a dream is never just a dream."

Her sibling's delivery had just been so ominous and mysterious that DG burst out laughing. Maybe she wasn't the princess of the fairytales. Maybe Azkadellia was the elf queen or some other beautiful mischievous mystic. Or maybe not...

"Come on, time for princesses to be up and charming their subjects," Azkadellia announced cheerfully, throwing the covers back and making DG cry out at the rush of cold air.

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**A/N: I hope I can get the next bit written soon… **


	4. Confusing Clue

**Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long. I was lazy. Exposition I guess is really not my thing, either…**

The dream wasn't a random generation of her mind. Of that, DG was becoming more and more certain. Not only did the same eerie sequence of events pervade her nights, they became more persistent in number and desperate in tone. But no matter how hard she tried to decipher their meaning, she simply could not comprehend it.

And what was worse, she felt too ridiculous to tell anyone, even Cain, to whom she had developed a habit of sharing practically every little thought in her head on their weekly trail rides. He was such a quiet, internally-focused man that she felt extremely, absurdly verbose and vapid for all her prattling. On one occasion, she had told him so. And she'll never forget his response, not ever.

Bringing his horse to a halt, he had shifted in his saddle slightly, and pinned her with that damn perceptive gaze of his.

"Well, DG," he had stated matter-of-factly. "I've known a lot who've had far worse ways of easing their minds. So talk all you want, if it's what keeps you sane."

She hadn't realized up until that point that her friendship with the tin man was practically the only thing keeping her sane, a state that was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain as the confounding dreams continued.

...

"OZMA!" DG cried out as she started awake. Her cheeks immediately reddened when she was able to resurface from her dream and recognized her surroundings. She was sitting in a comfy chair in the corner of the vast library where Ambrose delivered his lectures on the history of the OZ to the princess.

Currently he was staring at her in a shocked manner, a bit of the old Glitch showing through as his thought processes were struggling to analyze her outburst. Perhaps, he had not even realized she had fallen asleep. He did tend to get carried away with his own loquacious narratives.

She gave him an apologetic smile as he began to understand what had happened. Surreptitiously, she used the sleeve of her emerald green (for once a color she was partial to) spencer to wipe at the small wet stain on the open pages of the book that had served as a pillow.

It occurred to her that there was a new epiphany within the dream, that she had finally teased some key bit of information from it. But what was it...the jarring arousal from her REM state had driven all memory of the dream from her mind.

"Ambrose?" she interrupted his resumed narrative of the history of agricultural systems, how her great great-grandmother had instituted the something-or-other proclamation requiring that... try as might, DG could never pay attention.

"Yes, princess?" he asked, pausing in the middle of his umpteenth turn about the space to turn to face his pupil. DG missed her old friend. Certainly, he was just as decent and kind a man as he was when she met him. But gone was that particular innocence he retained as Glitch.

"Did I happen to say anything when I-um-dozed off?" she probed, hoping that he could provide her with the information her own brain failed to divulge. Maybe the barely restful, disturbed state of sleep she suffered had affected her mental capacity...

Despite feeling slightly pensive, she smiled upon witnessing the familiar sight of Glitch glitching, even though Ambrose had fully regained his grey matter and thought processes. Apparently, his memory was primarily consumed with matters other than short term memory.

"AWs-something," he said slowly, furrowing his brow. "Aws-ah?"

DG began mouthing the sounds, trying to jar her own memory. Why was it so difficult to recover dreams once they were forgotten, or never remembered as it were?

"Aws-ah... Awz-ah... Oz-ah..."

"Oh! OZMA!" DG shouted, and then shrunk back into the chair as she heard her voice echo through the great library.

"What does 'OZMA' mean?" she whispered, overcompensating for her outburst.

"Outer Zone M-something A-uh-Association?" she hazarded.

"I've never heard of it," Ambrose responded, still obviously deep in thought. "It's something you dreamt about?"

"Uh, yeah," DG conceded. "But I think it's important, Gl-Ambrose. Are you sure you've never heard it before?" He shrugged in an apologetic manner and shook his head. "...ever?"

"OZMA..." he pondered again. Normally he would assert he wad right, and move on, but for DG... And she had obviously been bothered by something recently. "It sounds archaic. We could try the ancient archives index."

"Could we?" she asked, feeling like she was being a bother. Ambrose was responsible for an awful lot of the infrastructure of the OZ, and his time probably could've been better spent than educating her, let alone following crazy clues from crazy dreams of hers.

"For you, princess, definitely," he said cheerfully, his eyes lighting up with the prospect of research.

"You are a dork, you know that?" she commented.

"What's a dork?" Ambrose asked as they walked towards the reference section.

"It's, well, never mind," DG asserted, not wanting to insult her friend, even though she had meant it in all kindness.

The library's reference system was remarkably like a computer. Well, a computer circa 1970 that took up an entire room, but only if the 70s had employed intricate clockwork and magic instead of computer chips. It was rather steampunk, actually. DG felt like she should adorn a bustle and some goggles just to watch it in operation.

Ambrose expertly inputted the search parameters, the metal keys clanking so rapidly that the sound was reminiscent of angry squirrels. After a few moments of silence, except for the buzz of the inner workings of the machine winding away, something not unlike tickertape was spat out of the great computing device.

"Looks like there's a few fragments in some of the remaining pre-Dorothian records," Ambrose announced, looking over the small type printed on the length of paper. "And one in a collected work of Gilikin mythology."

"Gilikin?" DG questioned, unfamiliar with the term.

"Very, very old land, dating back to when the OZ was divided into four kingdoms," Ambrose recounted. "Not much is known about the period, except for in mythos. The end of it was marked by the arrival of your ancestor, the great Queen Dorothy."

"Let's try the Gilikin mythology first," Ambrose suggested. "The archaic languages can take a little deciphering..."

...

"Ozma, ancient Queen of all the land of Oz..." Ambrose read from the unfurled scroll with DG looking over his shoulder. She watched as characters glowed and danced about the-well, it looked more like cellophane than any other comparison she could conjure.

"What is that?" she asked. The language most everyone spoke and every written thing she had encountered was what she recognized as basically modern American English, but these characters were odd.

"Hmm?" Ambrose surfaced from the text.

"I don't understand those_...letters_?" she explained.

"Oh, I didn't realize," he remarked. "I apologize, princess. It's written in the Giliken dialect, basically a dead language, used in this work primarily for esoteric appeal, I imagine."

"And it says that 'Ozma' is the name of an ancient queen of Oz?" DG asked, trying to concentrate on the information but still finding herself mesmerized by the elegant characters flitting over the page like fireflies at dusk.

"Yes," Ambrose confirmed and then continued to read, "She was also fabled to be of fairy origin, possessing significant magical abilities."

"Like my family's?" DG asked.

"Perhaps," Ambrose replied. "Her line may have merged with yours over time, if she was even a real person."

"What else does it say?" DG questioned, curious how such an obscure reference had appeared in her subconscious, one that she had never even heard in passing before.

"That's all it says about this 'Ozma'," the former 'head case' announced with an apologetic smile. "I doubt the ancient archives have any more significant information, but I can have any references pulled and translated, if you'd like, princess."

"I'd like that," DG said distractedly. Why would the name of an ancient, probably mythical queen pop up in her dreams? She just couldn't figure it out. Despite how strange or relevant her dreams had been in the past, they had always had root in something real, substantial.

She couldn't help but wonder if this Ozma was literally haunting the empty halls of her nightmares?

"Are you feeling all right, DG?" he asked, very much her old friend seeing something about her that concerned him.

"I've been a little tired lately," she confessed, knowing she could escape with an omission but probably not an outright lie. "But I'll be fine." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Thanks for entertaining my whim."

"Anytime," he said with a genial smile that was belied by the concern still in his eyes.

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**A/N: The next chapter should be more interesting than this one…I hope… (and posted sooner?)**

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	5. Late Night Revelation

**Author's Note: If you were hoping this chapter would answer all your questions, you were wrong :-) But now we're getting somewhere… (Okay, not really, but we needed to recruit some help.)**

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A piercing cry was stifled by a strong, deliberate hand and died before it could echo about the cavernous halls.

Cain eased the young woman to the floor like she was the most delicate item he'd ever touched. Concern was etched into every feature of his face as he studied the distressed princess. His friend was obviously in trouble.

Her eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, her chest was rising and falling like she was gasping for air. She had emerged from her room, moving slowly, in a gait that he easily recognized as not belonging to her. He had tried to rouse her attention, only to realize she was entirely unresponsive. When he gently shook her arm, he had seen the scream threaten and managed to cut it off before it needlessly roused the entire household, something he knew she would not desire.

"DG," he whispered, trying to gently wake her once more. Her lack of responsiveness was becoming more and more unsettling. From what he knew, she could be difficult to drag out of sleep, but this was something else. Crouching even closer to her not-so-placid slumbering form, he spoke her name directly into her ear in a voice so low it was practically a growl.

Her eyes shot open and she took a sharp inhalation of breath, startling Cain at the suddenness of her reaction.

"Cain?!" she inquired groggily, pushing herself up off the floor and holding her head. "Where am I? What happened?"

"You were walking in your sleep," Cain supplied, still looking worried. "When I tried to wake you, you threw a right fit."

"I don't remember that," DG said sheepishly, embarrassed despite how uneasy the revelation made her. "I was dreaming..."

Still apprehensive about divulging the dreams that put her sanity in question, DG was hesitant to share their nature even with her closest friend (save her sister).

"This is what's been troubling your mind lately, isn't it?" Cain hazarded as he helped her to sit up. DG chewed her lip in a manner he found all too endearing.

"You talk my ear off, DG, but you never tell me anything." He tried not to sound accusing, but she obviously was withholding something from him, from everyone. And from what he had witnessed, it was most definitely something she should share. Besides, he was beginning to develop a curious notion about this whole thing...

Reluctantly, she met his eyes. He looked so concerned, and was that hurt in their crystal depths? Her inability to be candid had offended him. Whether it was guilt or the fact that she could no longer to bear the stress of the bizarre dreams alone, DG decided to tell her tin man of her troubles. (Okay, maybe it was looking like he wouldn't let her get away without telling him the truth).

"I've been having these weird dreams," she confessed. "They always have the same feeling to them, devastatingly loneliness..."

She tried to look away, even the memory of the emotion overwhelming her, but his hand stayed her, caressing her face and wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. When she met his eyes, they both looked away, breaking the tender contact, startled by what they had found in the other.

Cain stared off down the hall, obviously deep in thought, before he spoke softly.

"There's a girl."

DG's eyes snapped to the side of his face but could not read his feelings.

"The most beautiful child, like I've never seen before," Cain continued describing her dream...and apparently, _his_ dream as well. "And she's sad. She asks for help, but I can never seem to find her, save her..."

He sighed pointedly, and DG's heart was both relieved that he understood and ached because he shared her pain. But if Cain was having the dreams, too, then she was right. There /was/ something more to them. Maybe together they could figure them out. She decided to share the little she had learned about the disturbing dreams' source.

"Her name is-"

"Ozma," he supplied before the name could pass her lips.

"You know who she is?" DG asked in surprise. Of course, why should she have been so surprised? Perhaps he was among the tersest individuals she had ever met, but he was by far one of the most observant and intelligent.

"In the real world, if she's even real, no," he divulged, shaking his head.

DG smiled, glad that she could shed some light (however insignificant) upon the dream that apparently had unsettled him almost as much as it had her.

"Ozma is a mythical Queen of Oz," DG revealed her one clue. "Glitch-_damn_-Ambrose helped me look up the little information in the archives on her. Unfortunately there wasn't much."

Cain smiled at her instinctual reversion to using their friend's old name. Even though they had known him as Ambrose far longer now than they had known him as 'Glitch', the head-case would always be 'Glitch' to the close-knit group of friends. Well, maybe they weren't all so close any more, despite the ordeal they had gone through. But Cain would never forget his debt to the girl who had freed him, gave him back his heart. Nor could he admit that there was something more that bound him to her.

And she was in trouble again, a strange sort of trouble that somehow reflected his own restless nights. There was definitely something bizarre happening. His dreams had always been disturbed, haunting, but it was a trade-off he willingly accepted for having a life outside the tin suit and being forced to relive the same nightmare over and over again. But since this bizarre one was affecting DG, it was worth investigating.

"I might know of someone who can shed more light on this Ozma," he offered. "I'll-"

"I want to talk to them myself," DG cut him off before he could exclude her from the proposed interview.

"Fine." He threw up his hands in defeat, knowing that she wouldn't back down. "But only if you get back to bed for some well-needed shut-eye."

"You got a deal, Cain," she said cheerfully, holding out her hand. Not being alone with her troublesome affliction had done wonders for her spirits. Her tin man could do anything. Silly dreams would be no match for him.

He grasped her petite hand in his and shook it before using it to help her to her feet.

"Good night," she called quietly over her shoulder as she made her way back to her chambers.

"G'night, princess," he answered back, cursing her choice in night-wear and how she filled it out far too ably. The sooner they figured out these dreams, the sooner their midnight conversations would come to an end. It would be a considerable relief on his strained self-control. Damn, he was a lascivious old fool, drooling over a girl practically half his age.

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**A/N: Oh no, our two protagonists have been thrown together! Whatever shall we do?!**


	6. GreenTinged Answers

**Author's note: Sorry this took so long…I have attention span issues. The story is getting fleshed out overall, but it still may be awhile between posts. Not sure how I feel about this chapter…

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The beaded curtain that parted to reveal the stuffy, gaudy room was a shimmering sort of emerald green. The walls were of the sage variety, as far as she could tell from the few places that lacked talismans or tacky decorations, which also seemed to be green in nature. Of course, their tendency towards the monochromatic might have been primarily a result of the greenish haze that filled the room. It smelled of incense. Rather, it simultaneously smelled of many different types of incense rather than one specific sort.

DG loosed a hard, sinus-scraping sneeze that made her eardrums pop and regretted her lack of handkerchiefs or disposable sleeves. As she began to panic over her embarrassing and rather disgusting predicament, a white, immaculate piece of linen was thrust at her.

"Health," its owner muttered the traditional response as if it were the last thing he wished her.

_Gee, thanks_, DG thought sarcastically, biting her tongue and accepting the hanky despite the gruffness of its source. He was obviously in a mood. Whether it was because of the disturbing dreams, the foul incense, the fact that this was the sixth such place they had visited, or the creature sitting in a rather aloof manner for a woman whose head was wrapped in one too many layers of jade silk turban, DG wasn't certain. She just knew to bite her sardonic tongue and stay out of his way when the man got like this.

"I will read the princess," the sallow looking face announced. For several reasons, DG glanced in the glowing verdant mirror on the nearest wall. Firstly, for vanity's sake she had to confirm that her own skin did not take on a tone reminiscent to that of landlubbers with a sudden, intense desire to experience the maritime fishing industry first hand. Secondly, she had used her magic to disguise her appearance as was her usual practice upon venturing out into a public very much aware of their reclaimed monarchy's appearance.

The 'soothsayer' had referred to her by her supposedly hidden title, causing DG alarm enough to check that the blonde with a little too much nose and not quite enough lip was still staring back from her reflection.

"Yes, I can see directly through your little illusion, my dear," the woman chuckled, one of those horrible, superior-to-thou laughs. DG caught her protector glaring at the clairvoyant. "A trick of the light. Not too impressive, but rather a lost art these days."

DG tried not to scowl at the condescending swollen gooseberry, instead forcing a smile as she accepted the bloated, clammy hand and sat opposite the brocade-covered table. It was almost certain that Cain was hovering in his most menacing manner, but if the sea foam sibyl was intimidated even an iota, she wasn't letting it show.

"What is it you wish to know? Future romances, whether your prince charming is on his way, perhaps?" she said airily, giving DG a wink.

"I want to know about the Cult of the Ozians," DG replied sternly, holding the woman's fervent eyes, making it clear that this was an order by a superior, not a silly girl to whom she could condescend. The ample face, too much face and not enough features, turned another shade more yellow at the declaration, but it didn't stop DG from adding, "And you can tell me all you know about Ozma."

"Oz-ma?" she repeated, obviously faking unfamiliarity with the inquiries put to her. All facade of composure had left the woman, who was no longer in control, queen of her own little green den.

"You can stop feigning ignorance right now," Cain growled, leaning in, one fist on the table between the crystal ball and the quavering radioactive blob. His other hand was free, was always free as DG had noted, in case he needed his gun or an available, quick punch. "We know you were a member of the Cult. We know you were a council member. Your friends sent us directly to you."

_Bit of an exaggeration, Cain_. DG thought, remembering the extremely sinuous goose-chase that had comprised the last two days.

"Well, whatever, _whoever_ told you was lying," she responded. "You'd be better off trying Glinda over on Munchkin Way.

"Funny thing, Glinda said you'd say as much," Cain countered. "That you were always one to cut-and-run."

"Well, she's a liar, tin man," she countered. "And _you're_ a fool."

"We'll see who the fool is when we get the information we're after and it points directly back to-"

"Threaten all you want. I don't know what you're after."

"Some soothsayer you are. I knew you were just a two-bit con."

"I can see quite a bit about you're twisted past, Mr. Wyatt Cain, enough to tell you that that winning personality of yours will secure you a lonely grave."

"Enough," DG cut through the back-and-forth between tin man and reluctant source without raising her voice. Instead she added an edge of force to it that she normally lacked by nature. She stared directly into the woman's eyes, refusing to release her to hide the truth and evade their questions further. "You will tell me what I wish to know or I will call in a Seer."

Honestly, the princess did not know whether she were bluffing or not, but only what the soothsayer believed was vital. A fat brownish tongue flicked out over the plump emerald painted lips before disappearing. The fat of her neck danced a little as she swallowed hard.

"All right," the reluctant mystic conceded, her accent changing with the drop of pretense.

...

The number of people in the street had doubled in the time they had spent in the soothsayer's den. If it were the Other Side, DG would've called it Rush Hour, except that instead of thousands of people crammed in cars, inhaling smog and stuck in traffic jams, swearing and eager to get home, there were carts of various goods and people bartering for deals. Actually, if she had to make a comparison, it definitely had more in common with medieval Middle Eastern marketplaces.

She bounded into the hub-bub, excited by the information they had recovered, pulling her tin man reluctantly along behind her. Massive crowds of people weren't his favourite thing, but she didn't let his agitation dampen her spirits.

"We should be able to get fresh horses and leave tonight," DG said animatedly, a new adventure stretching out before her eyes. And for once, there was a problem she had a chance at resolving...she hoped.

"We'll leave tomorrow morning," Cain corrected his overeager counterpart. "Provided that the Queen grants us permission."

"What?!" DG stopped dead in her tracks at the mention of her mother. Had it not been for the tin man's quick reflexes, she would've been run over by a fruit cart for her momentary lapse in diligence. Instead she found herself pulled into a corner that was too recessed to merit a steady flow of traffic.

"The princesses aren't allowed to leave palace grounds without the Queen's permission," he elucidated gruffly, refusing to look her in the face. And he was right to, for she began to grin widely despite the frustration she suffered over what she just heard.

"You rebel," she proclaimed. "We're not even supposed to be in the City are we?"

"Technically, no," Cain conceded, shifting uncomfortably at his failure to follow the Queen's orders being brought to light. "But it's only a few hours journey, and you'll be back before anyone notices you're gone."

"You mean my mother," DG said resentfully. "She wouldn't notice if I was missing for several days, if someone wasn't there to tell her."

"DG, that's not fair," Cain scolded, disliking the disrespect she showed for her mother, despite that he sometimes agreed with her assessments-_not that he'd ever say so aloud_. "She's a busy woman, but she loves you."

Sighing, DG conceded his point. "I know. It's just... I don't want to run this by her, you know? She's just going to think I'm going crazy from stress and confine me to my room or send me away or something."

"I'll be there to back you up, kid," Cain reassured, unsure why she thought her mother wouldn't believe her.

DG gave him a half smile, and let the conversation drop. She didn't especially want to tell him that his presence or seemingly random involvement in the situation would not be received well by her mother. It was as subtle as one would expect from her good breeding, but DG could see there was something about the tin man that rubbed the Queen the wrong way. Hopefully there would be time on their journey back to figure out a way around Cain's need to inform her mother of the situation.

For there was simply no way the present Queen was going to let her youngest daughter go off in search of the lost ancient Queen of OZ.

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**A/N: Oh, DG…avoiding and lying to her mother…**


	7. Doppelganger Don'ts

**Author's note: Apologies to anyone who was following this story. Nothing was quite inspiring me on how to get DG out of the corner I had wrote her into (aka working around her mother) except for lame convenient things such as the Queen leaving the palace herself for some important business or other. Anyway, finally something occurred to me, and here we go…

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**

_DO NOT give the doppelganger an exact copy of your brain (two heads are indeed not better than one). They _will_ try to usurp your life (see _Double, Double Foil Trouble_)_

_DO NOT substitute any of the following ingredients, especially Black Flarn for White Flarn, or you will end up with an evil doppelganger (Note: Not an 'evil twin' for _twinning_, see _Sibling, lack thereof and substitution for)

_DO NOT keep beyond the expiration date._

_DO NOT fall in love with your doppelganger. That is just plain conceited._

"What?!" DG exclaimed, looking up from the book she had been reading, only to catch her sister giving her a particularly bug-eyed expression. The goggles with magnifying lenses did not lessen the bizarre effect, rather it accentuated the comical nature of the entire situation.

DG snorted.

"Az, take those off! You look ridiculous," DG commanded of her sister.

"I don't think I shall," Az resisted.

"And you should wear yours properly," she added, indicating the pair being ineffectually sported on the top of DG's head.

The younger princess huffed and rolled her eyes at the elder's 'mother hen' routine.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Deeg," she snapped "Or have you forgotten what happened the last time we were down here."

She had to admit that her sister made a valid point. Thinking they were finally ready (meaning DG-whom always seemed several steps behind her sister), Toto had brought them down to one of the palace's basement laboratories (why the palace possessed such places, she couldn't say-maybe if she had paid more attention to Ambrose's lectures) for a lesson in more advanced magic.

It was odd magic, DG had concluded after much consideration. Not in that it felt unnatural or strange. The _Light_ was a part of her and felt as normal as possessing an opposable thumb. It was only odd from the perspective of the Other Side. Nothing like the magic of the fairytales she had learned in school.

In fact, as far as she could tell, the OZ treated magic like the Other Side viewed science; fact of life, potential source of wonderment, beyond some people's capabilities, but generally considered beneficial. Actually, there was science and research in the OZ, only its base was magical energies rather than the interactions of atoms and their components.

Thus, a laboratory in the OZ was not all that different than the one she had spent a solid semester trapped within for Chemistry class or the numerous glossed over and exaggerated ones she had seen on television. She glanced around at the bubbling liquids, luminescent jars of suspect substances and bizarre, lengthy twists of tubing that buzzed eerily.

Okay, so it was a little more sci-fi than your basic Other Side high school chemistry lab. And /much/ easier to cause explosions...

"DO NOT use in a juvenile attempt to fool your mother into believing that you have not run away. Especially if she is the Queen," Az pretended to read over her rebellious sister's shoulder.

"What would you recommend, then?" DG responded sarcastically. "Stuffing pillows in the shape of a body under the blankets in my bed?"

Az laughed genuinely. Apparently, kids in the OZ had never discovered the oh-so-not-clever cover. Or maybe it was just that Azkadellia had no real adolescence. Her teenage years had been stolen from her. DG shook the sad thought off, simply making a note to include her deprived sister in more of her insane schemes. This one was probably a good start...

The reason for including the older princess had been out of necessity rather than the sisterly concern and affection DG held for her. To be honest, and she had to be for this to at all succeed, Azkadellia was much more adept with magic and its practical application. Whether it was a natural ineptitude or a result of living so many years as the 'Sorceress' was uncertain, but DG preferred to think it was a result of her sister's innate intelligence, composure and skill. On the other hand, DG possessed intense emotions, and thus a significantly deep well of raw, unharnessed magical energy, while lacking the discipline to properly apply it on a daily basis, much to Toto's chagrin.

She had been surprised that Azkadellia agreed to participate in such a contrary plan, but she knew that she could trust her not to tattle even had she not consented to being a party to it. Perhaps, she, too, were not as thrilled with their mother as they both were upon first being reunited with the Queen. God knew, DG loved her mother. Things were just..._different_ than she had expected. And she had a terrible, nagging feeling that she, too, was different than _they_ had expected.

"What's the next ingredient?" Az queried, interrupting DG's considerations upon the complexity of family relations. While she had been daydreaming, her sister had been carrying out her dubious scheme on her behalf, smartly adorning a white apron as not to ruin her dress (which she of course looked smashing in) and rubber-like, elbow-length gloves as she poured creepily glowing liquids into a beaker.

"Red Flarn" DG announced, adding, "But not Black Flarn because apparently that will make my double turn out with a goatee and gold sash."

Az gave her the blank look she oft received when her humor fell flat due to lack of common referential material. She really needed to make a trip to the Other Side and retrieve some DVDs. Needless to say, any sort of popular culture or entertainment did not exactly thrive under the Witch's rule, and DG was starting to really miss plunking down on a sofa with a good, possibly mind-numbing movie and a giant bowl of popcorn.

"And then what?"

DG jumped, once again startled from her internal reveries by her sister's generally smooth voice, which was presently developing an edge of impatience. She really needed to focus upon the task at hand. Or for a better result...

"Here," she handed _100 Recipes Every Sorcerer Should Know _over, passing off the responsibility entirely to her sister. She was doing all the work, anyway.

"You're never going to learn, if I do everything for you."

It was a line DG had heard a dozen times before she had lost her sister all those years ago. And it was probably true, but that didn't stop the compassionate woman from taking the tome from her hands and continuing on without futilely consulting her sister every other minute.

DG simply watched as her graceful and apparently extremely talented sibling carried on mixing the..._potion? _Yeah, that was probably the appropriate term. It was like watching an expert chef prepare a meal. Perhaps, she should've been concerned about the lack of precise measuring, but it was too beautiful and graceful a process to disrupt. Her sister even seemed to have little flourishes in the way she poured, stirred, sifted, and distilled ingredients. Besides, she trusted Az, knew how much more instinct went into magic, and that her sister had an ingrained intuition for brewing potions and casting spells.

Finally, the elder princess took a step back from the table, releasing a hefty sigh, removing her goggles to rest upon her forehead and wiping the sweat (like it were at all possible for her sister to ever be in any sort of disarray) that had supposedly accumulated there. And then she picked up the little glass vial that somehow contained a much smaller amount of liquid than any one of the single ingredients that had done into its manufacture. Had she even been paying full attention the entire time, DG was certain that she still would not have been able to account for the whereabouts of over half the substances within those measly ounces of putrid green fluid.

AZ held it out to her, and DG plucked her from her fingers as if it were radioactive, keeping it at an arm's length and eyeing it suspiciously.

"This was your idea, Deeg," Az chided.

"But what...What do I _do_ with it?" she asked, venturing a sniff, which made her thrust it away from her face once more. "Jeez, that's awful!"

"You drink it, but don't swallow," Az directed. "Swish it about really well, and then spit it in here."

She offered what DG recognized as a Petri dish.

"Seriously?" DG tried to get Az to reconsider her instructions, as if willpower would make the process somehow lest disgusting.

"Or you could act your age and have a conversation with our mother."

The sisters locked eyes and looks were exchanged; simultaneously scolding, resistant, and sympathetic.

"So this must do what? Collect a genetic sample?" DG observed, looking back to the vial of sketch-tastic fluid.

"Precisely," Az said brightly. "And Toto says you never pay attention."

_And then what? _DG mimed as she swished the surprisingly not-as-vile-as-it-appeared potion around her mouth. Had it been any one else, she would've received a blank stare. But sisterly bonds overcome confusing primitive gestures.

"Then we put it in the incubator," Az responded, walking over to something that looked like a cross between a cryogenic pod from a 50s B movie and a iron-maiden. DG was leaning toward the former, what with the chartreuse viscous bubbling contents visible through the glass pane in the front. The elder princess deftly held out the Petri dish for DG to spit in without looking away from the crude readouts on the little panel of incubator. She played with a couple knobs while DG looked on, but the younger princess could not for the life of her figure out what adjustments she was making.

"So what if I had a piece of chicken caught in between my teeth?" DG asked, partially because she couldn't resist joking, partially because she was genuinely curious.

"It shouldn't take to anything but human genes, but we might end up with a _very_ interesting version of you," she answered, adding with a smile, "But no one will probably no any different with all the clucking."

DG swatted her sister playfully.

"Hey, watch it!" she said, placing a cover on the glass sample and inserting in the slot. "You don't want your Doppelganger spilled all over the floor."

"How long?" DG half-whined.

"A few hours," AZ replied. "And since this whole thing is your scheme, you get to baby-sit the incubator."

"You're really leaving me down here alone?" DG asked of her sister's back as the woman removed her gloves, goggles and apron, returning them to the precise locations from which they had been taken.

"In this very creepy laboratory?"

Az looked over her shoulder before disappearing through the door.

"You're the mad scientist here," she commented with a grin. "Besides, I have some appointments and you wouldn't want mother to come looking for us."

And with that, DG was left alone amongst the gentle glow and bubbling noises of the laboratory to await the birth of her means of her escape.

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**A/N: I do not own the only made-up ingredient I actually referenced by name (not good at making up fantasy names that don't sound off-the-wall) 500 points to anyone who knows where I pulled it from :-)**

**A/N 2: Don't worry. We'll get some more Cain/DG goodness soon…**


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